


Why Do I Love These People?

by phipiohsum475



Series: Shot Through the Heart [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Infidelity, M/M, No Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-16
Updated: 2014-05-25
Packaged: 2018-01-25 00:13:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1622054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phipiohsum475/pseuds/phipiohsum475
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas says 'I love you.' Dean reacts poorly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Po Bronson's book of the same name.
> 
> Note that this is my first fanfic, first fiction entirely, and that I typically (professionally) author medical literature, which is brief, concise, and emotionless. I welcome any concrit to improve my fiction writing skills, but please be gentle!

_I love you._

_I love you._

 

 The words echoed in Dean’s head like gunshots in parking garage. He knew the walk to Ellen’s bar wouldn’t completely calm him, but he was surprised to find he was even more keyed up when he arrived than when he’d left his house. Objectively, he knew the confession should be a good thing. However, the panic reverberating through his bones shattered all logical thought. He wandered into the bar and ordered up three shots of whiskey to start. He knew he was getting drunk tonight; he’d walked the 10 minutes to the Roadhouse instead of taking the Impala so he wouldn’t have to leave it behind as he stumbled home at closing time.

 -o-

 Laying naked in bed, Dean tipped his head to kiss the top of Cas’ head. Cas lay listening to Dean’s rapidly beating heart; he loved the feel of the after effects of pounding an orgasm hard and fast out of his boyfriend. Post-coital bliss hummed over them and Dean stroked his fingers absentmindedly through Cas’ hair. And that’s when Cas spoke.

 -o-

Dean downed the shots rapidly, one after the other. He’d escaped the situation gracefully, he thought, when Cas left his apartment to head to work. In fact, too gracefully, he reflected, as in his orgasm drunken haste to cover up his terror at the affections Cas confessed, he’d muttered _I love you too_. Now he sat in his favorite bar, listening to the sharp crack of the billiard balls over the gentle chords of some soft pop song meandering out of the jukebox, and wondered what the hell he had done.

He’d never uttered those words to anyone before. He’d never used them as a cheap line to seduce a quick lay; he may have been a bit of slut, but he was, at the very least, genuine. He’d never vocalized his sentiment to Sammy, choosing to express their bond through a simple name calling ritual he’d come to realize served as a replacement. His father could barely look at him, let alone indulge in any sort of emotional display beyond anger and depression. In fact, as he looked back, the last time he’d spoken those words to anyone - hell, the last time anyone had spoken those words to him - was his mother. And she’d died when he was four.

He ordered up another three shots.

 -o-

Dean’d lost count of the shots by now, but Jo had recognized he was in some sort of depressive spiral and offered the drinks up for free by this point. He’d slipped into a bad place; which was his name for the empty pit buried in his chest, and also way of waving off outside concern: _I’m just in a bad place right now, I’ll be fine_. He’d repeated that dismissive line more than he could remember. And that was just another reason it was absurd for Cas to love him. Cas was magnificent, brilliant, and utterly gorgeous and Dean, well, he was emotionally vacant, broken and useless. His Bad Place was a broken record, reminders of how he couldn’t save his mother from the fire that’d destroyed his childhood home and gutted his father. Remembering how he’d cried and attempted to hug his father during the funeral and was chastised and pushed away. Dad leaving to hunt for days on end, then weeks on end, and then never coming back. Sammy left ( _Sammy came back_ , the less masochistic side of his brain supplied, but he downed another shot to shut it down). Friends in high school who’d all left to never return; calls fewer and farther between until they ultimately stopped. The half brother who left so shortly after arriving with his best friend, never to be heard from again. Everyone who mattered left.

The pit in his chest grew cloudier, blacker, deeper, and Dean attempted to fill it with the sweet burn of whiskey.

Dean could see why they all left. Who the fuck was he? A mechanic? Dime a dozen. Drop-out? Fucking worthless. He played the cocky alpha male, but knew it was a part in a play and they could all tell he was a poor actor. Dad was dead, Sam had Jody and Cas, well, Cas was much too good for him. Dean was pretty sure that his only redeeming factor was how attentive he was as a lover. No one was left unsatisfied on his watch. And Cas surely only stayed with him for that, until he found someone better matched for him intellectually. Cas was confused. He couldn’t love Dean. Dean was functional - a tool for fixing cars, for producing orgasms, for bad jokes, watching sci-fi or whatever other need he can provide for others. Like a screwdriver. Or a saw. No one loves their screwdriver, their saw. Cas was wrong. He didn’t love Dean.

Dean waived Jo down for three more shots.

She came from the other end of the bar, with the bottle of whiskey and a glass of water. She filled the shot glasses, leaving little puddles of liquor where it spilled and offered up the water with a suggestive nod of her head. Dean followed the direction she’d indicated to capture the eyes of a pale redhead standing at the bar near the door, who raised her eyebrows and smiled softly; She wasn’t assuming, but certainly confident her gift would be appreciated. Dean turned back to Jo.

 

“Who the hell sends water?”

“Someone who doesn’t want you too drunk to perform.”

 _Oh_. The one thing he was good at; good for. He could do this. Besides, his whiskey addled brain suggested, if he showed Cas he wasn’t worth loving, perhaps they could go back to the way things were, where Dean served Cas’ needs, but Cas wasn’t stupid enough to confuse his appreciation of Dean’s functionality for love. _Yes,_ the whiskey whispered, _go with her, and it’ll all be better_.

-o-

Dean knew before opening his eyes that the day would be rough. He could feel the burn of sunshine behind his eyes, the steady throb in his brain hinting at the jackhammering headache he’d feel upon sitting up, and the sticky cotton rottenness of his tongue lying half dead in his mouth. He groped around for a second pillow to cover his head with, to drown out the day, when he felt the body next to him. Instinctively, he rolled into it, snuggling tight against warmth. He draped an arm over the body, soft and supple, when a red flag went off in his head. Where were the hard lines of Cas’ hipbones, the firmness of his chest? Dean’s hand wandered upward of its own accord, to the soft roundness of breasts.

Breasts.

_Oh fuck._

Dean recoiled back, as though the woman’s body were a hot burner under his touch. He shot up, took the surroundings of an unfamiliar room in, and despite the cascade of rocks crushing his skull from the inside, gasped, “Who the hell are you?”

Before the body next to him could speak, the door opened with a cheerful tone, “Anna! I brought you breakfast!” and in a split second, Dean’s heart sunk as he recognized the voice.

-o-

The next second happened in slow motion.

Dean whipped his head to the door to see Cas, with a breakfast tray, adorned with a ham and cheese omelet, bacon, toast and orange juice. A hangover cure to be sure.

The woman, apparently Anna, sat up in bed, holding the sheet up to her breasts, with a tired smile on her face.

Cas’ face, changed in a split second from a bright smile as he opened the door to wide eyes, chin dropped, lips firm as he saw Dean, then changing to drooped eyelids and a defeated, tight lipped frown just as quick.

Cas only said one thing, soft, breathless and devastated, “ _Dean_.” Dean swore he saw Cas’ heart break in that very second.

Anna swirled to Dean, her face morphing from droopily content to rage in mere moments. “Dean?! Oh my g- are you fucking Dean? Cas’ Dean!? Why the fuck did you tell me your name was Michael?! What the fuck is wrong with you?!” She jumped up from the bed, stealing the sheet away with her and hastily covering her body in shame, revealing Dean naked and marked with lavish bruises, and leaving no doubt as to what had occurred.

Dean stammered, trying to rebuild his memory of the night prior, but not succeeding quickly enough. Cas broke the silence with a defeated voice, “I’ll just leave this here and go.” Dean heard the emotionless tone he used; familiar when skirting the painful topic of his mother. Being used on _him_. Looking up, he saw Cas’ mask had already slid into place, and Dean’s heart ached. That mask was never meant for him. That was the mask that Dean got to see behind, that he lifted from Cas with his touch, his affections. And now, the mask was being used to deflect him, to push him away. “You two have a lot to talk about.”

-o-

Dean jumped up and dressed as quickly as he could. Anna shouted at him and down the hall at Cas, varying between versions of _I didn’t know it was him_ (to Cas) and _You are the worst person in the world, ever_ (to him). The latter was much more colorful and much more hateful, though it all amounted to the same thing.  Dean barreled down the hall wearing nothing more than boxers and jeans, holding his shirts in his hand, while trying to shove his feet in their boots. Cas had disappeared far too quickly, having slammed the door to Anna’s shut before Dean’d even left Anna’s room. He rushed out the front door, only to see Cas’ car pull away.

“Fuck!” he shouted aloud, to no one in particular.

He retreated back into Anna’s apartment. He collapsed on her loveseat and took a few moments to put on his shirts and tie the laces on his boots. He leaned back, breathing heavily, elbow resting on the armrest and pinched the bridge of his nose. He could hear Anna walking down the hallway. He didn’t look forward to this talk.

“You are an asshole” she spat as he came into her view.

“Oh honey, I know” he shot back. “I have fucked up like you wouldn’t believe.” Although, she did probably have a good idea, seeing as how she was there and an active, though unknowing, participant. However, his bluntness served to soften her edge.

“If I had any idea that you were Cas’..” she trailed off, obviously a little unsure of the appropriate title, since his devotion was currently under question. She deliberately paused and then simply asked, “Why?”

“Honestly, sweetheart, I have no idea. I don’t remember anything after Bohemian Rhapsody came on the jukebox”

“That was before you even came over to talk.” she offered, surprised. “You don’t remember anything?”

“Not a damn thing.”

“Fuck.” she echoed quietly, expressing Dean’s sentiments exactly.

The walk back to the Impala from Anna’s house was long and filled with well deserved self hate. Dean tried piecing the memories back together, but it was like repairing a shattered vase; piercing and half the pieces all but dust.

Either way, he’d betrayed Cas. Cas’ trust. He’d promised never to do that, and he’d apparently lied. He hadn’t meant to, of course, but that wouldn’t matter to Cas. Cas had been very clear on the infidelity front.

 _A trust, once broken, was never regained._ His exact fucking words.


	2. Chapter 2

When Dean pulled into the driveway of his townhouse, he was careful not to block Cas in. Since Cas was here, he may want to talk. If they talk, he may decided to leave rapidly, and should Cas decide to leave, he’d be frustrated at Dean blocking him in and storm home, walking the whole way. A lesson Dean’d learned the first time they’d fought. It was chilly out, Dean didn’t want Cas walking twenty minutes in this weather.

He hesitated in the Impala. Going in could be the end of his relationship with the love of his life, he wasn’t thrilled to start the process. He took several deep breaths, clenched his fists a half dozen times, and exited the vehicle. He patted the Impala for good luck and walked into his small home.

He heard Cas’ steps upstairs, assuming he was in the bedroom. He trudged his way up to the top of the steps, dreading each step to their confrontation.

He paused outside his door frame. Cas was packing. He had a military surplus duffel and haphazardly shoved the contents of the nightstand drawer on his side of their bed. _Your bed_ , his brain reminded him, _Cas doesn’t actually live here_. He watched for a moment as Cas moved over to what little he had in “his” closet. The master bedroom had two large closets, and since Dean didn’t have enough clothes to fill both, he’d given the second to Cas to leave whatever on the nights he stayed over. He’d never had a lover leave so much as a toothbrush before, and he’d given Cas a whole closet.

“Castiel” Dean spoke aloud, since he hadn’t yet been noticed. He hadn’t expected his voice to sound so… desperate. “Let’s just talk about this.”

Cas put his hand to his face and grimaced. He turned slowly, but didn’t quite meet Dean’s eyes. “What is there to talk about?”

“I was so drunk, man - it meant nothing. I don’t even remember talking to her in the bar.”

“Meant nothing?” Cas’ voice jumped and he gave a ridiculous little laugh, “I’m glad _nothing_ was worth destroying our relationship, then.”

“No Cas, it wasn’t... I mean … it was an accident” Dean struggled to find the words.

“Dean, no. Don’t make excuses. You knew the terms of this relationship going in. Not only that, you _begged_ for the opportunity. I knew you enjoyed a… _diverse_ sexual experience and so I was content being your friend. I _never_ asked you to change for me. But you?” Cas gave that disbelieving, breathy chuckle again as he grabbed the last items of clothing from the closet, “You promised me you’d be different. That I would be enough-”

“Dammit, you were enough!” Dan managed to interject.

Cas continued on as though never interrupted, “And I was naive enough to believe you. You are such a good person, so good to your family, loyal, and I just wanted so badly to believe you could be a faithful partner as well.” Cas hung his head and spoke softly, “This is my fault. I should have known better.”

“Fuck, Cas - this had nothing to do with wanting to mix up it. I just… it was… I had a bad day. If I was sober, this never would’ve happened!”

“Dean, I’m not stupid. I know exactly why you were consuming copious amounts of alcohol. I thought after eight months, it’d be safe to assume we were in a committed relationship and that confirming that… using the dreaded “l” word... would be accepted. Just another mistake I’ve made.” Cas finished his packing and closed the duffle.

“I’m sorry I freaked out, okay? I know you need some space, but can you please, please just leave your shit here and we can talk it out again in a few days?”

Cas finally met his gaze and looked stone cold absolute as he spoke, “It would be pointless. I can’t be in a relationship with someone I can’t trust. I’ll be by tomorrow while you’re at work to pick up my recliner.”

He stormed past Dean and down the stairs, ignoring Dean’s attempts to re-engage him in the conversation. Despite pleading, and Dean was not too proud to admit, begging, no amount of coercion could get Cas to reconsider. He watched helplessly as Cas drove off.

He slunk back into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of cheap whiskey off the shelf above the sink. He stumbled into the hallway and his resolved crumbled before he could make it to the living room. His back slumped into the wall as he took a long sip straight from the bottle, slid down the wall into a heap, dropped his head into his arms, and started to sob.

 

-o-

 

The next day, Dean trudged off to work, head under attack from two days’ worth the binging. Eight hours under an engine would do him good, distract him from the hell that his relationship with Cas. He buried himself in his work, each turn of the wrench, each hose replaced helped distract him from the disaster his relationship had become. He attached himself deeply to the classic rock station playing in the background, and deliberately ignored all comments outside of set instructions specific to the job at hand.

It was a relief to have something to focus on other than his own transgressions.

 

-o-

 

Cas team lifted the recliner into the back of Garth’s pickup truck. There wasn’t really room in their apartment for it, but it had to go somewhere, so they’d figure it out once it got back to their place. Once in the back of the tiny pick up truck, Cas used furniture belts to secure the chair in place. He  turned to Garth and thanked him for his help. “I’ll be right back,” he promised, “I have to leave Dean’s key on the counter.”

As he slid Dean’s key off the keyring, he briefly flashed through his memories in the apartment. Sitting on the couch while Dean improved his pop-culture references, the times they hadn’t made it out of the hall before Dean had presented himself on all fours and begged to be fucked, the soft kisses in the kitchen while Dean made him breakfast. Each memory assaulted him, breaking him down as he tried to walk out. The facade he had crafted so carefully began to fall. He began to imagine how he’d hurt Dean.  Slamming Dean against a wall, leaving contusions on his jaw - he wanted to make Dean feel even just a portion of the pain Cas felt inside. He wanted to strike, hit, pummel, toss; he wanted to obliterate Dean, as Dean had obliterated his heart. He wanted Dean to suffer. He made it into the garage and saw the Impala. _The Impala._ He may not be able to make Dean feel the extent of his pain, but Dean could feel it through that damn car.

That fucking car. Dean loved the goddamn car more than anything. More than Cas, that was certain. Cas felt rage roar inside of him, felt the pain swirl and consume and take control. In his peripheral vision, he spotted the bat Ben used to take to practice, and before he knew it, the bat was in his hands.

_Damn Dean!_ He struck the windshield, and basked in the shattered sound of glass.

_Fuck his commitment phobia!_ The driver’s side window cracked and buckled upder his strength.

_Fuck him and how he lead Cas on!_ The hood buckled under several blows, whimpering under his punishment.

Cas lost control and swung the bat harder and harder, tears forming in his eyes. He imagined each strike pummeling the barriers Dean had constructed. _Goddamn his father! Fuck his insecurities!_ and Cas continued, raining down blows over and over again, until the garage door began to rise.

Cas didn’t notice, and continued destroying the Impala as Dean had destroyed him. He imagined thrusting Dean against a wall as he took out the headlights ( _Cas_!), kicking Dean hard while he’s down while he broke off the mirrors ( _CAS_!!), kneeing Dean in the stomach with each taillight destroyed ( _CASTIEL_!) before he realized Garth trying to get his attention.

He paused, heaving heavily with the bat in his hands. “Cas, man, it’s okay,”  Garth spoke softly to defuse the situation. He walked slowly, hands raised, and approached Cas. “You’ve gotten it out of your system now, let’s stop.” He gently removed the bat from Cas’ grip. Cas felt dazed as he looked down at the damage he caused.

_Oh fuck. The Impala._

_Dean was going to kill him._

_Dean was going to fucking_ murder _him._

Cas panicked briefly and dropped down to his knees. Garth dropped the bat and gently rubbed his back to dismiss the panic while whispering soothing tones in his ear. Cas began to hyperventilate. “Oh _fuck_ , what did I do?!”

Garth smartly replied, “Nothing you can’t pay for,” and continued his soft touched on his arms and back. Cas’ breathing slowed to normal as realized Garth was right. He could pay for the damages. He focused hard on breathing slowly; experience had taught him that his fingers would start tingling soon if he kept on like he was. Dean might hate him, but at least he was less likely to be arrested and jailed if he could fund the repair. He let Garth lead him to the truck and leaned against the window in shock. Garth knew better than to speak, and drove quietly to the near branch of Cas’ bank.

“I’ll drop off the money, Cas. You won’t have to even look at him”

 

-o-

 

Dean was spending another night at the Roadhouse. Tonight he didn’t even request whiskey. Rum was on special, so he began to guzzle what he could before the memories of his relationship with Cas could drown him in sorrows. Distracting himself with work only lasted as long as he was, well, working, and Bobby kicked his ass to the curb after fourteen straight hours.

He felt a tap on his shoulder.

He turned slowly, to see Garth standing too close to his person. Garth looked uncomfortable; but given that he was Cas’ roommate, Dean expected nothing less.

“Whaddya wan’, Garth” he slurred. “I a‘ready know I’m a fuckin’ idjit, you tellin’ me off too?”

“Don't panic, Dean,” Garth ignored his statement entirely, and immediately, Dean began to panic. Had Cas done something drastic? “No, no, Cas is okay,” he quickly reassured Dean, “but he asked that I bring you this.” He passed Dean a money order. Dean eyed it suspiciously.

“Five grand?” Dean mumbled, confused. “Why the fuck do I need five grand?” This couldn’t be good.

Garth took a deep breath. His hesitation was not reassuring.

“To fix the Impala.”

Dean felt panic turn into fury. He snapped his head around, “What happened to Baby?”

Garth stepped back, out of Dean’s reach, held his hands up in a defensive position, and his eyes got wide.

“ _An act of Cas._ ”

 


	3. Chapter 3

Cas sat at the table, wondering why Sam wasn’t looking him in the eye. He had already ordered his meal and the silted silence was getting painful. He was beginning to regret keeping his monthly lunch with Dean’s brother. 

 

“He hasn’t fixed the Impala yet.” Sam blurted aloud to his cup of coffee, trying to correct the awkward moment between them, and realizing instantly that he’d made it worse. 

 

Cas sighed. He was hoping that Sam would understand his unspoken desire to not talk about Dean, but clearly, he’d have to make it explicit. “Sam-” he began with a determined tone and paused meaningfully. 

 

“Cas, I know you don’t want to talk about him” Sam cut in quickly, “But can we just talk about it now, for a little bit, and get it out of the way?” Sam finally looked him in the eye. “Let’s not pretend it didn’t happen, and that it doesn’t make this-” he gestured between the two of them, “uncomfortable.” 

 

Sam took Cas’ silence as a consent of sorts.

 

Sam breathed in deeply, feeling the next statement with conviction “Look, I know Dean’s a dick. And he fucked up. But you know it was a complete mistake, right? He was blitzed out of his skull. Like I said, he’s so messed up about the whole situation, he hasn’t even  _ touched  _ the Implala. He’s been taking the  bus  to work.”

 

Cas understood, he really did. For Dean to neglect his Baby for the three weeks they’d been apart suggested severe emotional distress. And to take the bus, well… But really, that’s what he’d been going for. For Dean to feel the pain, the soul shattering devastation that Cas felt. Maybe Dean finally understand how badly he’d broken his heart.

 

“I know you know he’s called, Cas. A half dozen times at least.” Sam looked reticent as he spoke again, like he knew the next statement would draw ire. “He deserves a conversation at least.”

 

And Cas felt pained yet again. Clearly, Dean had no clue about the devastation he’d felt - Sam never would’ve gotten the impression a conversation would help otherwise. 

 

“I’ve given him a conversation,” Cas spoke sharply, “and there is nothing more to discuss. I never pursued Dean, not once, because I was more than aware of his promiscuous nature. And yet, he promised, begged, vowed that he’d be faithful, that he wouldn’t betrayed me. And he did so because he knew trust was the one unwavering commitment I demanded of my partners.” Cas’ voice began to shake, revealing the depth of his emotion. “I cannot fathom what he expected had changed in my convictions in the last eight months.”

 

Sam sighed deeply, as if Cas had missed the obvious. “Really Cas? He has been completely enamored for months! You are completely meant for each other. You are  _ perfect _ together. If I believed in soul mates, that’s what you’d be! You should be able to forgive him this one indiscretion!” Sam’s hands had begun to gesture wildly; his enthusiasm for the topic gaining attention from a nearby table. He reined himself in, and leaned in to speak softly. “He loves you, Cas.”

 

“And I, him, Sam. But let me give you an analogy. Imagine you’ve given money to your bank to put in savings. For comparisons sake, let’s say eight month’s worth the paychecks.” Cas used the example knowing that as a laywer, eight months was a pretty penny for Sam. A perfect analogy. “Now imagine the next time you go to the bank, all your money is gone. You talk to the bank, and they say ‘It was an accident, but we’ve given all your money away to a different customer. Nothing is left. But it was an accident, and that customer meant nothing to us. Why don’t you keep giving us your money!’” Cas paused to let the absurdity set in. “Would you continue to deposit your money in that bank? Could you  _ ever  _ trust them again?

 

The waiter hesitantly approached their table with their lunch, clearly having heard some of their conversation. Cas smiled emptily at him and offered a polite “Thank you” as the man set down their food. Sam turned his salad so that he could easily reach the dressing on the side of his plate. He waited briefly for the waiter to leave.

 

Cas leaned in to hit the point home, “So how much worse is it when it’s your whole heart, not just your money?” noting that Sam was silent and contemplative. “He may love me, Sam, but he’s clearly not perfect for me. Because drunk or not, he knew that sleeping with someone else was the one guaranteed way to obliterate our relationship.”

 

He leaned back, feeling that he’d appropriately said his piece. “Is that enough? Can we talk about something else now?” And he picked up his burger and took an overly large bite.

 

Sam sighed as he poked at his plate with his fork.

 

“So how’s Anna been?”

 

-o-

 

Anna was fine. Distraught that she’d inadvertently acted as the catalyst to end her brother’s relationship, sure, but she knew that if it hadn’t been her, it would’ve been someone else. Dean knew what he was doing was wrong; hell, he’d used a fake name during their encounter. Anna only regretted that Cas hadn’t sent her a picture of his current beau nor used social media in the two years she’d been gone; she’d had no idea that the man who claimed he was “Michael” was actually Dean. Dean, whom Cas had confided to her could be the love of his life. 

 

Anna kept on jogging her favorite path, through the gardens of her favorite park. Many hours of jogging had been devoted to erasing the encounter in her mind. Her conversations with Cas had decimated all positive memories of sex with Dean. She remembered, couldn’t forget really, that he was extraordinarily good in bed, but she refused to remember why and certainly didn’t think of the encounter fondly. She could only focus on the look on Cas’ face as he walked in that morning.

 

She heard her name being called out from far away. She jogged in place momentarily, straining to determine where the call was coming from and heard her name called out again. As she looked to her left, she saw Dean walking her way. She stopped moving entirely. This conversation would be tedious.

 

As he approached, Anna saw the dark bags under Dean’s eyes. He looked pale, sickly, even, with washed out features. The cocky twinkle in his eyes that she’d remembered from the bar was replaced by a dull sheen. His hair had grown out some and Anna was pretty sure that it was neglect, not conscious choice that led to his change in hairstyle. It’d been two months, and unless Dean was recovering from mono, his breakup with Cas was taking it’s toll on him. She’d almost feel bad, if he wasn’t the one who’d cheated on Cas to begin with.

 

“Hello Dean. What do you need?” she asked crisply, not wanting to endear herself to him.

 

“I know it’s fucked up. And I can’t believe I’m even asking…” Dean trailed off, sounding as though he was already mid-conversation. Anna wondered if she had missed his beginning thoughts. “Fuck! I can’t even do this right!” He ran his hand down his face and signed despairingly. “Let me start over.”

 

He took a deep breath, as though steeling himself against the worst. “Listen. I fucking miss Cas. He won’t answer my calls, he won’t talk to me, and even Sammy says I need to let it go.” He caught her confused look and explained, “My brother. He’s how Cas and I met.” He waved his hand to indicate how irrelevant he found this train of thought.

 

“But damn, I miss him. And maybe I love him, I dunno… I’m kinda fucked up, so it’s hard to tell.” Dean sounded more like he was talking to himself, Anna noted. “But I know you’re his best friend - although I swear to god, you guys need to have pictures fucking somewhere, ‘cuz how the fuck was I supposed to know? Anyways, I know you’re really sort of the last person I should be talking to about this, but you’re also pretty much the only person left…”

 

Dean started to clench his fists in a repetitive motion and couldn’t seem to look her in the eye, “Can you talk to him? You know how fucking drunk I was. I just,” he paused,  “I just need to talk to him. Tell him I haven’t touched the Impala yet. I can’t, y’know? I can’t fix it ‘til I fix us.”

 

“Dean,” Anna started disapprovingly, and immediately Dean knew she wasn’t going to help him, “I know. We’ve discussed you at length. But honestly? Do you know how many times Cas has been betrayed by people he thought he could trust? His dad left, his mother disowned him, his brothers spent so much time fighting over what was left that he was homeless through most of college, one boyfriend led him to drugs, another emotionally abused him, and then you came along.” She shook her head. “He’s not going to get over this, Dean. I’m sorry.”

 

Dean closed his eyes painfully. He’d known most of what Anna said, but to hear it laid out like that, betrayal after betrayal, it resonated with him. He could almost tangibly feel the pain of each treacherous act. 

 

He spoke, his voice breaking with his heart, “Can you just let him know I love him?” 

If that’s all Cas knew for now, it would be enough. 


	4. Chapter 4

Cas leaned back, taking in the pleasant murmur of conversation around him. The “gang,” so to speak, was all here. Sam, Jody, Gabriel, Meg and Alfie all had settled around their regular table at the Roadhouse. Cas brushed aside the unspoken reminder that it wasn’t everybody, that Dean was conspicuously absent. He felt momentarily guilty for depriving his friends of Dean’s company, but he thought better of it. If they had a problem, they’d tell him. They didn’t mind splitting between Cas and Dean for the moment. He knew his friends were looking out for him, trying not to take sides and respect his desire for distance.

After a few rounds, they played some mismatched games of pool. Sam wiped the table with all of them, using the skills Dean had taught him when their dad would disappear for weeks on end. The conversation was easy going and flowed as easily as draft from the tap; and everyone avoided any mention of Dean. Cas spoke up just as he remembered, “Hey, does anyone want to see the newest Iron Man film this weekend?” Dean may have been the one to expose him to the newest Marvel franchise, but it didn’t mean Cas couldn’t enjoy it without him.

The table immediately stilled and tension fell thick in the air. Sam cleared his throat. “We, uh, saw that last weekend.” _With Dean_ , was unspoken. 

“All of you?” Cas croaked, the sound coming out weaker than he’d intended. Sam nodded, and Cas felt his throat choke up. This is stupid, he reminded himself. They shared friends and there was no reason they couldn’t spend time with Dean while not spending time with him. But all of them? Cas could understand if it were just a few of them, but all of them? That’d be like… be like… this little outing right here, he realized. He masked his face carefully, trying to avoid the pity or frustration of his friends, as they navigated the dangerous minefield of broken relationships. 

“Well,” Cas forced a smirk onto his face, “I’ll guess I’ll just have to find someone new to go with.” He winked suggestively and bought a round for the table, and they soon fell into new conversations and the tap began to flow once again. 

-o-

 

“I’m gonna get more popcorn.” Dean announced as he stood up. 

Sam hooked an eyebrow and smirked, “Seriously, Dean? The previews haven’t even ended yet.” 

“Oh, shut it, bitch.” 

“Jerk.”

Dean smiled to himself as he walked out of the darkened theatre. He had a few minutes before showtime, and most of the previews were for fucking sequels and douchy teenage books anyways. He made a quick left and almost crushed the popcorn bucket between himself and the guy he ran into. 

“Oh dude, sorry! I didn’t see-” Dean abruptly cut off as he looked into the man’s face. He felt doused in ice water. 

“Cas.” Dean hated how breathy his voice sounded. He’d been waiting the better part of year to see Cas again, and now, here he was, by accident. He stared for half a minute too long before speaking. “How’ve you been?” 

Cas smiled brightly and seemed relatively unphased by the collision or the awkward silence. “Hello Dean. It’s good to see you. I’ve been well, you?”   

Dean didn’t understand why his tongue seemed numb in his mouth or why Cas seemed so… normal. He was a fucking wreck; nine months after their breakup and Cas could still do this to him. He stuttered briefly, but forced the words from his lips, “Uh, g-good. I’ve been good.” He drew courage into his lungs, and thought of all the words he’d wanted to say if he could get an audience with Cas. “I, uh, have been okay, but Cas, I really miss-” 

“And who is this, Cassie?” interrupted a blond in a v-neck who slid up to Cas and draped his arm around Cas’ waist. Dean’s eyes widened at the intruder and froze slightly in the spot. 

“Oh! Yes! Bal, this is Dean Winchester. Dean, this is Bal Roche” Cas introduced them. 

The man, Bal, thought momentarily and asked “Dean? Why’s that name familiar?” 

“Dean and I dated for a few months last year, remember?” he told Bal, and spoke to Dean, “Bal’s my current…” he smiled slyly at Bal, like sharing an inside joke, “Beau.” Bal beamed and Dean suddenly felt like an intruder on a private moment. 

And as he realized the implications of the word ‘beau,’ his heart stopped a beat. His shoulders fell and searched Cas’ face. There was no anger or irony or even smug pride at introducing this man to Dean. Cas showed no shame, no sorrow, no guilt, nothing but contentment. Dean’s breath caught in his throat. 

“Well, nice to meet you” Dean woodenly replied, looking at neither of them.”Just getting more popcorn before Spiderman starts.” He smiled a fraudulent smile with dead eyes, nodded, and started to pass by. 

“Enjoy the movie, Dean!” Cas said conversationally, and clasped Bal’s hand in his own. “I’ll see you around.” 

Dean focused on behaving normally as he requested a second batch of popcorn from the overweight blonde high schooler in the unfortunately styled company uniform. He flashed his false, flirty smile when she handed the bucket back, and he turned and stumbled back into his theatre, and then dropped back into the bucket seat besides Sam. 

Sam stole some popcorn from the bucket and made noises, probably talking, in Dean’s ear. Dean heard nothing, retreating into his head after the run-in with Cas. There was something off about the conversation, something bothering him that he hadn’t expected. Cas didn’t show signs of being angry or hurt with Dean. He acted beyond the stilted civility that most of his exes had shown; he’d acted downright friendly. 

He startled as Sam shoved an long, gangly arm into his ribcage. “Hey, dude, what’s up? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” 

Dean didn’t look at Sam, worried he’d give too much emotion away. “I ran into Cas. And his boyfriend.” 

Sam winced on Dean’s behalf. “You mean Bal? Can’t say I’m fond of that asshole.” 

“You knew?!” 

“Well, yeah. You know Cas and I still meet every month and go out with the gang for the occasional night out. I just don’t bring it up, ‘cuz, well, anytime I mention Cas, you get pissy.” 

Dean didn’t respond. He got it, why Sammy hid it from him, he did, but it still hurt. But Sam aside, he still couldn’t shake the encounter from his head. Something seemed off. Cas seemed so unphased at running into his ex. Bal didn’t seem jealous or possessive. Cas acted amiable and good natured during the entire two minutes, time that should have been awkward and painful. And then it hit Dean. Realization barreled into him like an oncoming train. Why Cas seemed so complacent.

_Cas was over him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure this is not the ending some people might write, but there are so many versions of Dean cheating on Cas where Cas forgives him much too quickly. That is probably more in line with canon Cas (how much have they forgiven, right?), but as someone for whom trust is the priority in any relationship... well, let's just say I felt the need to add some balance.
> 
> Eventually, I have more planned, but it's not written yet.


End file.
